After The End
by Coral Tawnies
Summary: These Tragic stories are continuing on from when Beatrice sank, and as a descendant of Kit Snickett, it is my duty to continue on with what her brother never could. But you are free to shut this computer down and go far far away where no computers are available, so that these tragic words may not reach you.
1. The Shopping Bag

**How these terrible records came to be published, and an unfourtunate letter.**

As I crouch behind this Bitter Apple tree, clutching a shopping bag containing the grappling hook, a sample of the incredibly deadly vipers dead skin, pretty penny's many outfits, the lipstick that was worn by Shirley (the colour is called 'a shade lighter than blood' if you must know), a tiny packet containing hand-made staples, a shred of pinstripe cloth from Sunny's suit (now 'out'), a feather from the harpooned V.F.D crow, rust scraped off the craniectomous blade, a tiny shard of wood from the plank over the lion pit, the fork from Quigley's left climbing shoe, a triangular lens from Fiona's glasses, ashes collected from the Hotel Denouement's rubble, and a seed from the bitter apple that I have just eaten, it dawns on me that the stories beyond 'The End' (Mr Snickett, 2006) have not been told. People do not know what happened. The simple clue 'Beatrice Sank' was there for those who needed to see it, but was all. It dawns on me, a phrase which here means 'my tangled and confusing mind realises something in a bolt from the blue' that my records (also in the shopping bag) need to be seen by the eyes of not only my associates, but the people who need to know the truth. Lemony's readers need to understand and learn the events after 'The End' no matter how woeful, disturbing and simply _unfortunate _they are. I remove my precious, precious, research and records from the bag and dig a hole in the sandy ground exactly four feet and nine inches deep. I place the shopping bag inside and fill the hole back in. I then draw an intricate pattern two centimetres away from the edge of the shopping bag's grave. To my associates it is a sign, and to my enemies, it is a warning. The Sugar Bowl! I realise. Then run.

To Beatrice Baudelaire the eighteenth,

I am writing to you from a very cold and dark place my love, but I will most probably still be alive by the time you receive this letter. The next time you visit the house of Justice Strauss, which, if I am not wrong, should be in two days from now, tell the inhabitants you wish to know if the world is quiet here. If they respond with silence, reach out your hand and in it they will place the first chapter of my research, AFTER the end, into the lives of the Baudelaires, and all those involved in their miserable lives, titled simply, Violet. If they do not respond with silence, run.

With all due love

Lemony

P.S (I am not really sure who I am any more)

**Violet is coming soon. Please review, this is my first fan fiction!**


	2. Violet

**Next Chapter, My Distressed Readers, including the second letter To Beatrice Baudelaire the eighteenth.**

Violet

The wind blew, the sails danced, and Violet Baudelaire's heart danced with them. She was free as a bird, could do anything she wanted to, invent anything she wanted to. Violet had a ribbon tied up in her hair to keep it out of her eyes, for she was trying to think how she would invent something that would distil the salt out of the ocean water from the available materials. In her arms was tiny Beatrice, sucking on a prawn. Violet's sister Sunny was scooping seaweed out of the water, examining it, and saying "Edible!" or "Diavlof!" which meant 'disgusting and poisonous' Sunny was quite the aspiring chef, and knew that dried seaweed could actually be quite delicious, and she didn't want her siblings to go hungry when their food supply ran out. The third Baudelaire sibling was sitting on the bow of Beatrice and was engaged in deep thought. Klaus was trying to remember information from an atlas that he had read about the world's oceans. He couldn't help wishing that Quigley Quagmire was there to help him navigate. Violet, meanwhile, was also thinking of Quigley. She clung to the belief that he had been rescued at the last minute, or managed to escape from being swallowed up by the great unknown. The thought that she might never see him or his siblings again was too much to bear. And little Sunny sighed sadly as she spread her seaweed strips out on the sun-baked deck, wishing and wishing that Duncan and Isadora were there to lighten the mood by Isadora reciting poetry or maybe Duncan telling everyone about a fascinating newspaper article. Although the sisters and their brother were in their elements, their friends were on their minds, a phrase which here means 'The Quagmires haunted their thoughts'

It was very sudden when Beatrice hit a rock, the boat that is, not the infant. She cracked down the middle with a sound that is much too terribly awful to write down, and this sound haunts me to this very day, even though I was not there to hear it. The impact sent Violet flying towards another rock on which she hit her head. Her last sensation was her wound stinging as she fell back into the salty water and the blurred sound of Beatrice, the child that is, not the poor mangled boat, screaming her name.

Many people on this earth have bad luck. Lemony Snickett was receiving bad luck when he was shot dead trying to retrieve the sugar bowl. I received bad luck when I was first told of the miserable years that were the Baudelaire orphan's lives, and I have not been completely happy since. But few receive as much bad luck as Violet had that dreadful afternoon in their entire lifetimes. For when Violet Baudelaire woke up, she found herself bleeding all over which stung quite a bit, bound with ropes, which also added to the pain, and surrounded with angry looking people with scars of battle on their faces and a pretty woman with a confused look on hers, and quite a few snow gnats swarming around her head. Violet was also riddled with concussion, a word which here means 'Too dizzy and in pain to think of an invention to get her out of the dreadful situation'. The pretty woman was the first to speak,

"Violet Baudelaire," she said warmly, "it's certainly a surprise to see you out here." Violet simply stared out her with a confused, concussed expression. At this, the scarred people broke out in angry cries.

"Witch!"

"Devil girl!"

"She does not speak to the great one!"

"Set the gnats upon her! Let them eat her alive!"

"The disrespect!"

"Wait until I tell my mother!"

"Shhhhh…" said the woman, which made the people fall silent.

"Excuse me…" Violet muttered, by now having got her bearings back, "I need to find my…"

"Hush!" cried the woman, who I can tell you from my extensive research, was not a bad person. "The world is quiet here. I'd better take you to Quigley. He might be able to help."

"Quig-"

"HUSH!" The woman half led, half pulled the eldest Baudelaire towards a dense grotto of ferns. It was only then that Violet realised that they were on an island.

"Sit here and wait," the woman instructed. And Violet did. She waited. And waited. And waited some more. It seemed like it had been forever when a boy emerged through the ferns. He looked at her with very wide eyes, and then his face broke into a grin.

"Violet!" he ran over and embraced her.

"Quigley!?" Violet had so many questions, about him, his siblings, V.F.D, her siblings. But in the end, all she did was hug him back and murmur,

"I missed you." Quigley pulled back from her and stared at her

"I missed you too. More than you could ever imagine. But where are the others? Have you seen my siblings?"

"But how did you escape the great unknown? What is this place? Where are Duncan and Isadora? Why…" Quigley shushed her.

"Start at the beginning, when we were separated at the waterfall, Violet. I need to know what happened. Wait, you're bleeding all over!"

"I know. It doesn't hurt that much, honestly. Well, when we were separated, I still had Klaus and Sunny with me…" Violet told the Quagmire triplet everything, from Captain Widdershins' submarine, to burning down the Hotel Denouement, and finally adopting Beatrice, building Beatrice, and setting sail.

"Wow," Quigley said softly, "so Count Olaf is dead? Kit Snickett has a daughter? You started a… a fire?" A tear slid down Violet's cheek.

"We had to… the medusiod mycelium…" Quigley put his arms around her again.

"I understand. Now I'll tell you what happened to us."

To dear dear Beatrice Baudelaire the eighteenth,

I have escaped the cold dark place and am writing to you while hiding in a small nook on the side of a cliff face. V.F.S is after me, and I advise you to stay in hiding. I can't lose you again. On the first day of winter a young girl will knock on the door. Ask her the password, and if she responds correctly, let her inside. Make her a cup of coffee with three table spoons of brown sugar. She will drink the beverage and leave. On your windowsill she should have placed the second chapter of my research, AFTER the end, into the lives of the Baudelaire orphans and all those involved in their miserable lives, entitled, Quigley's Story. If the password is wrong, barricade yourself inside the hideout.

With all due love

Your Lemony

P.S This chapter may be short, but is possibly the most important one of all.

**Thank you for reading! Pretty please with a sugar bowl on top review!**


	3. Quigley's Story

**On the 2nd of the 6th I published a version of this chapter that had a lot of errors in it, because I didn't keep Quigleys story in line with '_The Penultimate Peril' _Luckily I have deleted that chapter and put this new version of Quigley's story up (It hasn't changed much...) so bear with me. DISCLAIMER I do not own a series of unfourtunate events, that woeful reasearch was done by Lemony Snicket.**

Quigley's Story

As Violet Baudelaire and Quigley Quagmire crouched in the ferns together, watched by a manner of different creatures and people, the Quagmire triplet began his story.

"As I was pulled away from you by the current, a block of falling ice hit me on the forehead. I was knocked unconscious. I remember blacking out and going under… but someone pulled me out. I don't know who it was, but he or she must have been strong to drag me out. I was found by Kit Snickett about an hour later. She told me she was looking for you and Klaus and Sunny, and recognised me at once. I was with her for a while. Kit has told you about it has't she?"

"Yes," Violet said, "She said you disguised yourselves as shop mannequins." she smiled softly. So did Quigley.

"That's right. Anyway she said she was trying to track down the sugar bowl's location, and I helped her with her reasearch. I told her about Hector's self-sustaining hot air mobile home and my siblings. She promised she would take me to find them in the Queequeg, but she needed desperately to find the sugar bowl first. I begged her to tell me about the sugar bowl, but she didn't budge. And she sent a message to my siblings by crown, which they replied to! Oh Violet, I was so glad to hear about them, but they told us the eagles were coming. Kit managed to get me in a helicopter, and I flew off. I never got a chance to thank her and now she's… she's…" here Quigley broke off, almost crying. Violet squeezed his hand.

"She was a noble person," Violet murmured, and Quigley nodded and took a deep breath. Then he continued,

"While I was with Kit, I did some research of my own. We visited a variety of libraies, while in disguise. I couldn't find out anything about the sugar bowl, but I did discover some information about the great unknown." Quigley paused, and Violet drew in a sharp intake of breath. "It has a negative reaction to smoke. I was flying in the helicopter for a while before the Queequeg caught up with us. We all reached the self-sustaining hot air mobile home at the same time, and I climbed on board the baskets, then the helicopter left. I had thoughts that we would join my siblings, find you, and everything would be fine. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"No, no, no. It's not stupid. You're not stupid. It's O.K," Violet soothed. Quigley frowned, sighed, and went onwards.

"We could see a menacing shape on the ocean, and I realised that it must be the great unknown. The book I read on it didn't have any pictures, I just _knew_. Then the eagles came and… well, you know what happened. Izzy and Duncan and I were in the water, clinging to one another, sort of being sucked down. That thing isn't a submarine, Violet. It's alive. We managed to fight our way to the surface, and I was clinging to a piece of wood. I had remembered I had matches in my pocket, and I was lighting one, and all around me, people were yelling to one another. Kit wanted to get out of there, others wanted to be sucked under, goodness knows why. My siblings said they wanted to go under too. I think the whole thing was something to do with V.F.D, but I don't know anything about it. I wanted to stay with my siblings, but… somehow I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing you again Violet. I was screaming your name and I had Isadora's hand, but she was pulled away. I don't think Kit saw me, and The Great Unknown glided away, because smoke was rising from my match. The eagles had already left, and I was alone. I didn't do anything. I thought about following Kit, but I wasn't thinking straight. I just lay on my plank of wood and waited for my siblings. I waited and waited. I drifted away eventually, match still smoking, and that was how the tribe found me. Their leader, the pretty woman, was once a member of V.F.D, but she ran away with the circus. Her name is Perry. She's a bit…"

"Not right in the head?" Violet suggested.

"Yeah. She took me to this clearing, see?" Quigley pulled the eldest Baudelaire to her feet, swept a clump of ferns aside, and gestured to an oval plot of earth. Inside the sandy earth was a circle of slightly darker dirt and inside that was a tiny circle of what looked like volcanic ash. The clearing had been shaped to look like an eye.

My Dear Beatrice Baudelaire the eighteenth,

I am writing this telegram from a place which I do not feel like naming for the simple reason that its name makes me want very much to weep STOP I do hope you are well STOP I have at last finished the third chapter of my research into the lives of the Baudelaire orphans and all those involved in these lives, AFTER the end, and have entitled it simply 'The Island' STOP On the afternoon of the third Wednesday from the next Tuesday you should visit Meander's Little Large Restaurant STOP Order a Seafood Platter, no pepper, and hidden in the second largest mackerel you should find my third chapter, along with a question on a piece of paper that I have been longing to ask you for quite some time STOP Please mail the answer to one of my associates STOP

With all due love

Lemony, forever yours

P.S The sugar bowl is -...-.-.-...-.-

**Thanks for reading! REVIEW! I beg of you!**


	4. The Island

**Sorry this took a while. Assesment. Need I say any more? Disclaimer (I forgot about this until now) I do not own a series of unfourtunate events. Thanks to my bestie Kat and all my other reviewers. You ROCK!**

The Island

Violet Baudelaire stared at the symbol, a symbol that had been watching her and her siblings from when they first stood on count Olaf's doorstep, and saw it looking up at them. It was a symbol of a secret organisation, of a schism, of burning and burning being ended, and a symbol that represented a sugar bowl, which may indeed be in your flower bed this minute, waiting for someone to put a vital something inside so it can then be transported around the world to me and my associates. Violet Baudelaire stared at the symbol, transfixed, inventing brain whirring and clicking. She did not notice Quigley Quagmire beside her, shaking her shoulder.

"Violet? VIOLET!"

"Huh? What?" Violet was jerked back into reality.

"I was shocked when I saw it too," her friend said, "This whole island is basically a shrine to V.F.D." Violet looked around and saw that he was right. Smooth eye shaped pebbles lined the clearing, the ferns had the symbol woven cleverly into their fronds, and the towering trees had oval shaped leaves with a circles within circles. She was about to say something, but she was cut off by a shrill shrieking. It was not the sort of shrieking that a child gives when it is refused something it wants. It was not the kind of shrieking that various annoying birds let of for no reason. It was the shrieking of a scared woman, and as Violet looked towards the sound she saw an elegant plume of smoke.

"Where there's smoke…" Quigley breathed, and he grabbed Violet's hand and they both ran towards the commotion. And I'm sorry to say that Quigley Quagmire was right. For he had been about to say '… there's fire' and this was a very true thing to say indeed. When the two friends reached their destination, they saw Perry tied to a tree trunk with eyes carved into it, and all around her, wild flames blazed and roared. Her 'tribe' were bound with ropes and being led towards a small boat by a series of people, people they did not recognise at all, except for…

"Captain Widdershins!" Violet exclaimed, rightly

"Father!" cried Quigley, wrongly

"Aunt Josephine!" Violet called, wrongly

"Mr Poe!" Quigley gasped, rightly, though how he recognised the man remains a mystery to me.

"How…"

"Why…" but Quigley once again was cut off from speaking by a piece of cloth that was put over his mouth and a blow to the head with what felt like a giant piece of pasta. To his left Violet was getting the same treatment. Strong hands tore Violet's hand from Quigley's, and put them in ropes. They were both pulled towards the boat. She was a smooth boat, patched up from what looked like a pretty violent ordeal. There was a name carved onto her hull.

Beatrice.

But there was another name on the opposite side of her hull.

V.F.S

My darling Beatrice the XVIII

Your answer has shocked me, though I will not say if it was for good or bad. Every day I write another letter, add another piece of the puzzle, not knowing if it reaches you. But our enemies lurk, and I urge you to do what must be done. The next part of the Baudelaire's story is entitled 'Perry'. I await your signal.

With the love that was due to you long ago

Lemony

P.S a reply to your answer to my questions is on its way to you by pigeon.

**Short was it not? PLEEEEEASSSEEE REVIEW! **


	5. Perry

**Hello my woeful readers. Thanks for my first favourite! Disclaimer, I do not own ASOUE (tears roll down cheeks)**

Perry

The woman was mysterious, elusive, but no matter what Violet and Quigley thought, she was not crazy. But how could they know this, bound and gagged, upon a stolen boat, threatened by the tagliatelle grand, surrounded by enemies? Violet managed to get her thoughts together. If only she could get her hair up in a ribbon… Too late now. The knot… yes! Her fingers played with it. It wasn't much different to the devil's tongue, if she loosened a loop here, pulled that piece there… it came undone and her hands were free. The first thing she did was squeeze Quigley's hand. Then she tied up her hair, untied her friend's ropes and they ripped off their gags. I should, I realise, take a moments time out to warn you that the two did not escape, though you are free to believe this. You can perhaps imagine that the eldest Baudelaire and her companion were rescued by their siblings, all miraculously alive and safe, and that they all travelled back to a warm, noble place where they built Baudelaire and Quagmire Inc. You can shut down this page, and go away with these happy thoughts in your mind. You do not have to read the next sentence, which is: 'But then Quigley Quagmire felt a cold hand on his shoulder.' You do not have to read onwards, and I suggest that you don't.

But then Quigley Quagmire felt a cold hand on his shoulder. He turned and looked into the face of Mr Poe, though the banker was barely recognisable. His hair was long and greasy, top hat in shreds, coat singed, and face covered in ugly markings, some tattoos, some scars, some bruises. But worst of all, he had a tattoo of an eye on his left ankle. Quigley's one thought was simply: '_Which side? Which side of the schism?' _

"The side that starts them," Mr Poe said coldly, as if reading Quigley's mind. And then Violet passed out.

She woke up in darkness, no longer upon the sea. And facing her was Perry. The woman's face was kind yet cold, there was warmth yet there was ice.

"It seems only yesterday when I saw you last," the woman said quietly, "Only a little girl, yet I knew you would grow up to be a beauty. Just like your mother." Violet was surprised to find tears on her cheeks.

"How did you know my mother? How did you escape the fire? Where am I? Who are you? What… Who… Is…" Violet felt the questions tumble off her lips. The woman smiled strangely.

"You love the boy, don't you?" this was so unexpected that Violet just stared open mouthed

"I… "

"Don't you?"

"Why… yes." The eldest Baudelaire felt good saying it. "But I don't have time for romance. We have to find our siblings, and then find safety. Where is Quigley?"

"Safe."

"Good."

"Violet, your mother was the sweetest person on this earth. Nobility shone out of her. But she was trusting, too trusting. The trouble started at a dinner party, which you may remember. Mr Poe was there. He talked easily with your mother, and managed to get details off her about your fortune. He was on the bad side of the schism. Olaf and he concocted a plan. Mr Poe was made in charge of your affairs, charming Beatrice with words about her children. Have you got plans for them Mrs B.? If you should pass away? He disgusts me. But what could I do? My house, the cracks forming through the volunteers, my children-" here she was interrupted by Violet.

"So it wasn't a coincidence that misfortune and Count Olaf followed us everywhere. Mr Poe was with him all along, sending us to obvious places where he could manage to try and capture us. Mr Poe did his job, but it was in the worst possible way. How could I have not seen…?"

"Yes. It was Poe. He had a long standing grudge against Montgomery Montgomery, and Olaf had a long standing grudge against Josephine. They were your two best guardians, were they not? Once they were dead… well countless troubles danced after you, didn't they Miss Baudelaire?"

"I still don't understand…"

"You shouldn't. But I do have to tell you this. Alongside V.F.D, there was another organisation. As the volunteer fire department crumbled, it grew. It was constructed mostly of people on the side that starts the fires, and others, like me. V.F.S, Villainous Fire Starters."

"Why are you part of it?"

"Count Olaf threatened to kill my family if I didn't join. You see, I am a volunteer at heart. It was I who designed the safe places of the world. I have an interest in architecture. Kit Snickett was my best friend, almost like a sister to me. Olaf threatened her too, but she escaped and ran. And now both of her brothers… and herself…. Dead."

"Both brothers? What about Lemony? And I thought Olaf loved Kit."

"Well, no-one knows of course, but if I heard that Lemony Snickett is alive in this world, I would have a lot of doubts. As for those two, well, after your parents and the poison darts, they had a big argument. Kit got over him; Olaf did not get over her. He wanted her to join V.F.S, but it wasn't what she wanted. She was noble. He was not."

"Who are you?" Violet felt inclined to ask again.

"I am Perry. Villain. Volunteer. Distraught and singed. The person who builds. The person who burns. Vegan. Butcher. Noble. Evil." She gave a sad cackle. "I am your god mother,"

"WHAT!?"

"That's what your parents will really said. Poe was lying once again when he spoke of your parents will. They did not wish you to be placed with a family member. I was introduced to your mother at the same dinner party when Poe started his treachery, and we quickly became close friends. I was not really one for all the action in my days as a volunteer. I preferred to stay behind the scenes, designing and thinking. I loved children; I had a disguise as a babysitter if I needed to go undercover. After a long talk with your father, Beatrice told me that she was currently thinking about her children's future, and that I was a perfect candidate for god mother. I believe she was quite desperate, or I'm sure she would have picked someone she knew or trusted better. I agreed. And then… and then… then I met Fernald." And Violet would never know what Perry was about to admit, because there was then a terrible sound.

_Click, Swoosh_

And a harpoon pierced the distraught, singed woman with a fatal blow to the heart.

And then Violet was running, blind with shock, straight into Quigley's arms.

Dear Beatrice, darling sweet Bea, the eighteenth

This tree limb is very unstable, so I will make this brief. Let me first say how much I love you. And next say how urgently I need you to go to the false spring play at your local secondary school. Sit in the seventh row, next to a woman who strongly resembles the late Justice Strauss. During the second sing-along, she should slip you my next chapter of reasearch into the lives of the Baudelaires, AFTER the end, entitled The Tunnels. If however, she slips it to you during the twenty-third sing-along, something sinister is happening.

All my love, all of it due to you

Lemony

P.S If news of my death reaches you, rest assured it is false.

**I couldn't resist slipping Quiglet in here. Please tell me what you think!**


	6. The Tunnels

**Yay! After a serious case of writer's block, I managed to get this up! Disclaimer: I don't own ASOUE... :'(**

The Tunnels

She relaxed, breathing in the salt of the sea, the wool from his sweater. Despite the danger around them, she relaxed. It made Quigley feel… amazing. And he knew he wanted that feeling again. But the embrace was too perfect to last long. A harpoon was fired, whizzing past her hair.

_Click, Swoosh_

It impaled itself in the wall beside them.

"Run!" Violet said. And they did

How long they ran, harpoons flying, feet pounding after them, was hard to know. But their pursuer ran out of harpoons eventually, and cursed after them;

"I'll get you both! I'll get your fortunes! I'll tear your lives apart piece by piece, and there is nothing you can do about it!" This was followed by a coughing fit. The young woman and the young man he wanted dead collapsed onto the stone floor, side by side, hand in hand.

"Mr Poe! It must be… Mr Poe… even… worse than Olaf…" Violet croaked, between gasps for air. Quigley was puzzled, but didn't push it. Treachery, he decided, came from the most unexpected places.

"I'll have to invent something. I don't know what… I don't suppose you have any of those matches …do you?"

"I do,"

"Hmmm. Pass them, please." He passed her the matches. But what would she make? She lit one and held it in one hand while tying her hair up in a ribbon with the other. Quigley pictured the maze of darkness they had weaved through. They were obviously in some sort of tunnel. No, it was a network of tunnels, the V.F.S tunnels. He sketched them out in his mind, a map of sorts. But that was no use if they didn't know where to go. Meanwhile, beside him, Violet was heating a small stone with her match, holding it bundled in her hem so it wouldn't singe her hands. Then she heated another, and another and thirteen more, scooping these stones from the ground. She proceeded to tear the hem from her dress (a lightweight, practical piece of clothing, taken from the arboretum) and bundled it up so that she had a small bag of boiling stones.

"Weapons," she explained when Quigley gave her a questioning look, "in case we run into… someone."

"Genius! You are brilliant Violet. I think there must be a way out of this place, if we just work our way around the edge of these tunnels. An exit, there must be an exit, but where?" as a cartographer, Quigley had developed a sixth sense, a phrase which here means, 'an extraordinary talent for navigation' and he used his sixth sense to gain a rough idea of where to head. Stick to the edge, he decided, and they did. They walked for 18 hours, 13 minutes and 3 seconds through the darkness, finding occasional puddles of water on the dank floor. I could give you a detailed description of this journey, describing the girl who followed them the whole time, the origin of the light tan fungus that grew on the walls, telling you of the dread and fear the two friends felt as they wandered through nothingness with only a match to guide them. I could, but I won't. After 18 hours 13 minutes and 3 seconds, Violet and Quigley saw light, a tiny speck of light. They broke into a run, and the light grew, and grew, the way out, the exit… gone. Something, _someone_ blocked it. His feet were bare and he had a tattoo of an eye on his left ankle, and his feet were pale, as though they were hardly ever exposed to sunlight, but his hair was bleached and his skin brown from years in the sun. It took a while for Violet to recognise him but suddenly she did.

"Ishmael."

"Miss Baudelaire? Why, it's been such a long time! And Mr Quagmire, I assume? I knew your uncle well-"

"Have you joined V.F.S?" Violet asked, feeling her blood run cold,

"It depends on how you look at it," he replied with a smirk, and he stepped aside revealing the exit. Quigley and Violet started towards it, but he grabbed Violet's arm, surprisingly strong, and pulled her back.

"Not so fast, Violet Baudelaire!" he snarled, and threw her over his shoulder, and ran. Quigley turned and pounded after them, he didn't have a plan, or a map in his mind, or even clear thoughts about who the man was. All he could think of was how he couldn't lose Violet, not the way he may have lost Duncan and Isadora, or his parent, or his home. He liked her a lot, maybe even loved her, and she spurred him on. So he ran faster, until they reached a door, and Ishmael turned and looked at Quigley with disgust.

"So you've decided to join us, Prince Charming? Perfect. I could use a few sapphires."'

"Let Violet go!"

"Why would I do that? This Baudebrat means so much to me." Ishmael frowned. "Now I'm not going to force you, but if you value her life, I think you should… OUCH!"

Violet had managed to tip the contents of her makeshift bag down the back of Ishmael's robe, and he hopped around cursing and screeching.

"Ow, Oh, CRIPES, AAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! IT BURNS IT BURNS!"

Quigley and Violet shared a small smile, and then they were running again, back towards the exit, the light, and into freedom. Straight into the remains of the Hotel Denouement.

Dear Madame,

As you requested, I write to you as a stranger. If you wouldn't mind, I would be immensely grateful if you could talk to a friend of mine in the street (you know the one) and start a discussion about Vile Fluffy Dogs. If she responds correctly, slip her a cookie, and in return, she should slip you the next chapter of my research into the lives of Baudelaire orphans and all those involved in it, entitled, All Those Lost. If however, my friend happens to mention Vera Faye Snicket, flee at once.

Sincerely

A certain gentleman

P.S Ring! Someone has just rung my doorbell. I am writing, whoever it is can wait. This letter is really important, but a while after, I will find out who this someone may be. But you are top priority right now, so although the Ring! continues, I shall not answer it.

**Review. Review. Review. Review.** **Do it for my sanity!**


	7. All Those Lost

**This is a very sad chapter. I added some Violet and Quigley fluff. My deepest thanks to Don't Leave Me Hanging for reviewing my last chapter! Disclaimer: I don't own ASOUE. Lemony Snicket does. **

All Those Lost

Smouldering charcoal stone, ashes, smell of despair. The Hotel Denouement, the last safe place, was safe no more. It was enough to bring tears to the two friends' eyes.

"This must be the remains of the huge clock, the stuff of legend, in the basement," Quigley whispered, touching the surface of the clock, a mass of warped glass, melted by flames.

"And this is what used to be a concertina," Violet realised, picking up a charred mess and running her fingers over the keys. She looked at Quigley, and realised he was staring at something in this distance. She followed his gaze. On the horizon, she saw a wobbly row of crosses, graves, with flowers tied to them. Together, they walked slowly towards them.

_Quigley, Isadora and Duncan Quagmire_

_Swallowed by The Great Unknown._

_R.I.P_

_Violet, Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire_

_Beatrice Sank_

_You Stay In My Heart._

_Beatrice Snicket_

_At Only Three You Perished_

_You Too Stay In My Heart._

_Frank, Ernest and Dewey Denouement _

_Noble, Wicked, Mysterious_

_Always Remembered._

_Kit and Jacques Snicket_

_Two Noble Volunteers_

_I Miss You Every Day._

_Beatrice Baudelaire_

_My Dearest Darling_

_I weep for you always._

Violet's first thought was of the third Snicket Sibling. Who was he? How did he know their story? Did he love their mother? But then the words on the graves sunk in to her and she began to weep. Why were they here? Those stones spoke lies and truth. Quigley put his arms around her again, and this time it wasn't an accident. She wept against him, and he stroked her hair. So many people lost… she was all he had left. Deep down, they both knew the chances of finding Sunny, Klaus, Beatrice, Duncan and Isadora were impossible. But that didn't mean they couldn't try. A glimmer of hope in the corner of their hearts grew. The mysterious third Snicket watched them, scribbling furiously in a notebook. _'Friday 13__th__ the year of the snake. QQ and VB living and breathing before me. I hope that VS is near, as are the other Bs, Qs and BS. I believe in all of them, and though I've always said happy endings are simply impossible, I hope for one. LS'_

After about 2 minutes, Violet pulled away.

"What do we do now?" she murmured

"I guess we leave this place, set out to find someone noble who can help, and find out about the great unknown,"

"But Beatrice, Sunny and Klaus could be drowning as we speak!"

"And my siblings could be in grave danger!"

"You don't care about my siblings!"

"You don't care about mine!"

"You're nothing but a simple cartographer! What use are maps at a time like this!"

"Oh, and I suppose you can magic up a way to find your precious siblings with your so called 'skills'"

He stopped. She stopped.

"I'm sorry Quigley. Cartography is a useful and resourceful skill. This situation is making me angry and frustrated. You obviously care for your siblings, but that doesn't mean you don't care for mine."

"No, I'm sorry Violet. Your inventions have saved me and your siblings countless times, and if it weren't for you Duncan and Isadora would probably be dead."

They smiled sadly, and as the sun went down, he kissed her quickly, briefly, sweetly, and they watched the sunset together, atop an ashy marble fountain. It was another moment of peace in a world of woe, and it would be a very good time for you to stop reading, right now, and move on with the moment of peace in your mind, instead of the horrible and unfortunate events that happen after this moment of peace, which are better left unread.

Mr Poe had once sat on the same fountain, back when it wasn't so ashy, with the love of his life. It was the day before the schism divided V.F.D forever, the day when they were expected to choose fire or peace. Her words there had pierced his heart, and it would never truly heal. But the schism is done, and nothing I write about it will change that. My own life was torn in two by the schism, although I was not alive to see it, neither was my mother or my great-great-great grandmother, but it has still managed to ruin my life. Perhaps that is why I am hunched over Lemony's typewriter, recording and weeping for him and him only. Perhaps that is why the man two floors down drinks a cup of Russian caravan tea every morning at precisely 5 o'clock, or perhaps it isn't. As someone noble once said, we live in a world of perhapses.

There was a gun shot. And Lemony Snicket, the poor man, fell dead.

To Miss Beatrice Baudelaire (XVIII),

Mr Lemony Snicket is dead. He died in an unfortunate fire.

Yours Sincerely

Dewey Denouement (XVIII)

**I hope you thought it was good! Please tell me what you think.**


	8. A Large Clump Of Misfourtune

**This chapter is exceedingly short, however, a lot happens. Consider it a taste of what is to come, for I will have the story from Sunny's POV now. Disclaimer: Don't own it. **

A Large Clump Of Misfourtune

"Quigley! Violet! Kit! Mother? Uncle! Dewey! Anyone! Everyone?" Isadora Quagmire sat, her knees hugged to her chest, her throat hoarse from screaming. It seemed she had been here forever in the dark. Oh it was dark, so dark, as dark as a raven flying through a pitch black night. She couldn't tell whether her eyes were open or closed, that was how dark it was. It choked her, starved her, but gave her just enough to live, to scream for the people she loved. But they weren't there, and they never would be. How she longed for a voice, a flash of hope, _anything_! Rescued? More like trapped, forever, from life. She began to weep. She had never been one for weeping, as the eldest, by a minute, of the Quagmire triplets, she was the strong one. She never wept. But this… this unknown, had reduced her to nothing but a crumpled heap. It was, she suddenly realised, a large clump of misfortune.

As Sunny clutched Beatrice to her, she felt the waves of responsibility crash apron her, as well as the real waves that threatened to rip her from the plank of wood she clung to with her free arm, and she knew she would do whatever she could to keep Beatrice safe, and to find Violet, Klaus, as well as, someday, the Quagmires.

It was a quiet affair, as he was pulled, by the raging currents, under the surface. His glasses fell off and he watched for as long as he could as they were swept away.

They were the last thing Klaus ever saw.

No words could express the young woman's horror as she saw her younger brother fall to the ground dead. None.

"Saddened," she whispered "saddened but not shocked."

Dear…

Oh what is the point?

VS

**I know, I KNOW I KILLED KLAUS! I'm so sorry… it just sort of happened… please review? Please? **


	9. AN Please Read!

A/N

Hey everyone!

I'm really sorry, but I am thinking of deleting this story. I have no ideas. I have been trying for months to write another chapter, but I've failed miserably. It doesn't seem to have a plot; I just don't know where it's going. Thank you so much to the guests and members of the site who reviewed my story, and to those who followed it and added it to their favourites. I'm sorry if you wanted me to continue, I really am, but I think you would be disappointed if I did, because my writing is becoming an epic fail.

So yeah…

I do have an idea for another story, a one-shot, about twenty-one year old Sunny going to a special V.F.D gathering, a masque. Look out for it!

With all due respect

C.T


End file.
